The Isle of Wight- An Af[f]air to Last a Lifeti[m]e

They left everything behind one bright, sunny, cloudless day in May. The excellent weather seemed like a cruel joke, them leaving their normally inclement piece of the pie for what would be at least a long, long time. He gave her a wary smile when they met at the airport, her face was mottled with bright red splotches surrounded by circles of white flesh where it seemed the blood had been drained and deposited behind her bloodshot eyes. He pulled her into his chest where she wiped her snotty nose back and forth without even a consideration. He soothed her with ‘shh shh’ and ‘we’re doing the right thing’ and more ‘shh shh’, running his pale thin fingers through the dark tuft of curls at the back of head as much to calm her as to calm himself. He roughly dug his chin into her crown and put a hand on each of her shoulders, pulling her up and off of him.

“Straighten up soldier. Let’s get the fuck out of here before we change our minds”…

and he led the way to their gate, one knapsack over his shoulder, pulling her luggage behind him. She picked up the remainder of her bags and followed him, tears streaming in gobs down her face.